


Ne'er to be parted.

by RedStarFiction



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 03:09:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7601116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedStarFiction/pseuds/RedStarFiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A wee fanfic fluff piece for @vaneaustation around Bree and Roger. I hardly ever write B+R and so this is a bit of practice for me in that regard. I am also trying a spot of new spacing as that is an issue that has been raised today by @everythingyouweretooafraidtoask .Thank you for reading. xx</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ne'er to be parted.

Brianna stretched out beside the picnic basket and yawned. Her face was starting to feel warm and she knew that the sun had already done a number on the bridge of her nose and cheekbones. She reached blindly behind her for her hat but found a rather large booted foot instead. Roger leant forward, obligingly lending her his shadow. Bree cracked one eye open and smiled

“Hi!”

“Ye ken the sun in Scotland can burn just as is it does in America?”

“Mmmm. I think I’m learning that right now.”

Roger grunted and stooped to retrieve her sun hat, gently fanning her face with it

“With your skin tone I would think ye’d take better care.”

He scolded and Bree sat up, that same broad smile still playing on her lips as she plucked a daisy and twirled it between her fingers.

“I have two father’s Roger, I don’t need a third!”

Roger wanted to make a quip about that but decided against it. He dropped the hat lightly onto Brianna’s head and sat down beside her, inhaling her scent of fresh cotton and something a little citrus-y. 

“It’s a rare day. I’ve not ken it like this for some time and in December too.”

“Are we really going to talk about the weather?”

Bree cocked her head to the side and bit her lip teasingly and Roger felt his body stir. Every fibre of his being longed to lie with her and smell the grass crushed beneath their bodies envelope her.

“A nice wee Catholic lass wi’ two father’s shouldna look at a man like that.”

He murmured, leaning in to brush a stray red curl back behind her ear. The smooth shell dropped away in to neat little lobes, a single pearl stud in each, and Roger’s chest tightened with love. He knew what he felt for Brianna and had known it for some time, but every now and then she would look at him a certain way or he would notice a little detail about her and it would hit him afresh just how important this woman had become to him.

She was not the sort of girl Roger normally dated, had ever dated actually. Brianna was strong and fiercely independent and prone to temper tantrums that rivalled his friend’s toddler’s melt downs but she was also intelligent and logical, with a wicked sense of humour that sometimes startled him for its frankness.

Roger’s previous girlfriend had been artsy and outgoing but modestly so with a tendency to look up at him with adoration and subservience that, in truth, he quite liked. It made him feel completely masculine and in control. With Brianna he had to earn that control, she challenged him and argued with him and he got the impression that if he told her it was over she would simply narrow those slanted blue eyes and wave him goodbye.

“Don’t go.”

He whispered, unaware that he had spoken aloud until he saw Bree smile and rise up onto her knees, leaning over to kiss him.

“I might have to go sometime, but I’ll always come back.”

“Where would ye have to go that I couldna follow?”

“The ladies room.”

Bree grinned and stood up, tucking the daisy behind Roger’s ear, her long hair swinging as she made her way back into the Manse, leaving Roger gaping after her in exposed wonderment.  
*  
Roger reached up and touched the daisy crown their three year old son had placed on his head and smiled fondly at the memory of his wife before she had been his wife, when she had still been the wild and unknown American girl who stole his heart. He looked round to where the happy squeal Jem let out suggested that Bree had found some new game to entertain him with and the sight of her stole his breath afresh.  
She was laughing at some silly thing the wean had done and he felt his soul ease at the sight of her smile, content in the knowledge that she was his and he would never be parted from her again.


End file.
